


But Light Blinds

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Assuming they live in Canada, Josh Lives, Josh-centric, Non-sexual does not mean non-romantic, Not-Really-A-Threesome?, PTSD, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Recovery, Trauma, Which is in Canada, because the lodge was in Alberta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hunger was like ice in his soul - clawing and gnawing and numbing his sense of truth. Shaking - cold and crazy - he headed for the face lying inches away from him, all that the monster had left him with. </p><p>"Don't touch it, man. One bite and I'll have to blow your head off."</p><p>(Follow up/alternate to "Scared of the Dark". Recommended read, not necessary.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Light Blinds

When he looked from the park rangers to her, he knew immediately what she wanted and sighed. "Fine, but you know they're not going to let us go that easy." 

* * *

 

He stung and hurt all over - hundreds of small, sizzling cuts that forced him awake when he tried to sleep, tried to fight off the darkness shifting all around him. The faces, the voices, the gore - it was all around him and there was nowhere to hide from it. Nowhere to go. 

There was no sense of time here, no clock or watch to tell him how long ago the people he'd tortured had left him to die. Not that he would blame them - they left his sisters, too, who had always been the glue keeping their group together. And Sam - how he'd betrayed Sam, of all people. That night, she'd rushed out after his sisters, trying to find them and coming back three hours later, frozen and alone.

"The blizzard covered the tracks." She said, bitterly, the next morning. "I couldn't find them last night and when I went out again this morning, I didn't see any trace of them."

Sam, Sam,  _Sam_. She'd come back for him, too, delving into the mines to find him, bring him back, to  _save him_. 

 _"You're not worth saving when you let us die."_ Hannah shrieked, her face blue with cold and death.  _"Passed out again - always running away."_

He huddled closer to himself, clutching, trembling. He didn't know where the monster had taken him, he didn't know where there was water or food from here. Didn't know the mines from his own delusion and he was  _afraid_.

 _"Good."_ Beth snarled, smacking him harshly, eyes gouged out and lips rotting away.  _"So were we."_

The hunger was like ice in his soul - clawing and gnawing and numbing his sense of truth. Shaking - cold and crazy - he headed for the face lying inches away from him, all that the monster had left him with.

"Don't touch it, man. One bite and I'll have to blow your head off."

* * *

When he woke up again, it was to a muted white ceiling, blinds drawn over a noon-day sun. IVs were in his arms and he was hooked up to a heart monitor. His stomach felt queasy, like someone had been punching him there the whole time he was unconscious. 

Mike was in the bed beside him, also attached to IVs - one for morphine and one for blood, he noted - and a heart monitor. Beside him was Jess - one leg in a hung-up cast, an IV for morphine and her face slick with healing ointment, covering still semi-leaking scratches. 

"Good, you're awake."

Blearily, he looked down to see Sam, one of her hands twined with his while the other was holding Mike's. He was startled to find it wrapped in gauze, two fingers missing. 

Still, even after all the shit he put her though, thick black bags rimming her eyes, she smiled at him. "I'm glad you're alright."

He couldn't bring himself to say anything, couldn't force out any of his thoughts. It was almost like she knew this, gently stroking her thumb down his knuckles. 

"It's okay. You don't have to talk. Try to get more rest." She smiled again, soothingly, unlike his own mother. 

"Joshua." Behind Sam,  _he_ appeared, a kind of regretful smile on his face. "I'm happy to have you back."

* * *

_He came back._

He didn't know how to think about it anymore. Dr. Hill was back. He always hovered by Sam, always reinforced things Sam told him, kindness she presented to him. It was a miracle, to be sure. There was no other way to view it.  _Dr. Hill came back_.

"H-How a-are you do-doing, Mike?" He stammered out one day, Sam positioned between them like a sentry. To his surprise, Mike looked over at him with a half-smile and a little laugh. 

"Shitty. How about you?"

"C-Crazy."

Mike chuckled again and Sam squeezed his fingers. "Yeah, buddy, me too."

* * *

It was Sam that took him home. Not back to the lodge - apparently Sam and Mike had reduced it to cinders (his parents would love that) - but to her own little dinky apartment. She gave him clothes and food and warmth and  _fucking company_ \- always there when he snapped awake from a nightmare, holding him whenever he would shake,  _not passing him off to a hospital like a fucking missing dog_ , and occasionally even inviting him into her bed when it became too much for him. 

Slowly, things got better. There was no oppressive silence to be found around Sam, only content ambience - low music in every inch of her apartment, the spaces decorated homely, cozy in its smallness and  _not empty_. 

Pictures of Hannah and Beth were on her walls - all different kinds of pictures of them just together, with the group, with selective members of the group, Sam's own separate family and a portrait of the Washington family, Sam included because he'd hooked an arm around her waist last-second and pulled her in, her delighted and honoured smile catching even in the stilled image. 

"You never removed them."

Sam handed him a cup of tea quietly, gazing fondly at the images. "Nope. Hannah was my best friend. You guys were my second family. There's no way that I would ever get rid of that."

The faded wallpaper inside his house where long-standing pictures had been removed or replaced flashed through his mind and he grimaced. 

* * *

He'd bonded with Mike a lot in the hospital, having learned there that after setting the lodge on fire and escaping the hold of the park rangers, that he'd gone back down into the mines with Sam specifically to find him, no matter his condition.

"You said you would shoot me."

Mike nodded, unapologetic. "The old man said that once you start, then the transformation begins. I would rather have you dead than one of those twisted things. That's no way to live."

He understood that. "Good."

Mike nodded, firm, but it was clear that he was relieved that he wasn't angry.

"Why does my stomach hurt so much?"

Sam shifted a little, uncomfortable. "I wanted to make sure that you hadn't eaten anything. Even when the scans showed that your stomach was empty, I demanded that they pump it anyway."

"Why?'

"I wanted to make sure that there was no possibility of you turning into one of them. I wasn't going to let you become a Wendigo. Not a chance. I failed Hannah. I couldn't let it happen to you."

* * *

Chris was the first to visit him outside the hospital. He was still angry about the prank and didn't try to hide it, but when he saw him again for the first time, he was greeted with a hug over a punch. 

"I hate your guts so fucking much-"

"Chris!"

"-but I am so fucking thankful you're alive."

"I'm sorry." He whispered in reply, shakily hugging his friend back. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Me too." Chris said, hugging him tighter. 

* * *

Ashley came with Chris the next time he saw him. She didn't speak to him the whole time they were there, but when they left, she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"I'm happy you're alive. I hope you get better soon."

It was short, sweet and sincere - exactly what he needed. 

* * *

Emily was not as kind. Matt was sympathetic (because he looked pathetic, he mused) and careful. 

"You're an asshole." Was all Emily had to say to him.

In a very out-of-character moment, Sam frowned at her. "So are you."

Emily spun around on her, snarling. "What did you say?"

"You're an asshole." Sam shot back. "After all this,  _knowing full fucking well that Josh had a psychotic break_ , you're going to berate him? If you're only here to blame and not to help, get out. He doesn't need it and neither do I."

"Oh, Sam the Merciful strikes again! What the fuck are  _you_ dealing with? Nothing  _happened_ to you! Mike almost  _shot_ me and every one of you was willing to let him!"

He was surprised - and so were the other two - when Sam got right up in her face. " _I'm_ the one whose piecing everyone back together. Hannah and Beth were like sisters to me. Their deaths may have meant nothing to you, but  _it hurt the fuck out of me_. And who was the one to save us from the Wendigo? It certainly wasn't you, you fussy bitch! It was  _me and Mike_.  _The two of us_ killed the Wendigo.  _No one else was willing to go find Josh but us_. And now? I'm helping him recover, trying to get him at least a little back to normal. So you can get your vain, worthless ass and fucking _grating_ voice out of my home if you're not going to  _play nice_. You have three minutes. Make up your mind."

"Sam-"

"I wasn't talking to you, Matt."

"You  _whore-_ "

Firmly, Sam's open palm met Emily's cheek. The silence surrounding them was deadly. "Get the fuck out."

She turned and left, slamming the door on the way out. 

"Em, wait-" Matt looked torn, wanting to follow his girlfriend, but not wanting to alienate Sam or Josh. 

"Go after her." Sam said, weakly smiling. "Make sure she doesn't start throwing rocks at my window."

* * *

It was two weeks after that that a knock came to the door. 

He had been nestled inside a cocoon of blankets watching Netflix on Sam's laptop when he heard it. Gently, he unwrapped himself, pausing the show and going to the door. He was surprised at what he saw when he opened it. 

"Emily?"

She pursed her lips, eyes averted, and huffed a breath. "Can I come in?"

"Y-yeah, if you want. Sam isn't home right now, though."

"I'll wait. She's only half the reason I'm here."

Not knowing what else to do, he just nodded. In the tense silence, his wristwatch started beeping, startling them both. Fumbling, he shut it off. 

He laughed nervously. "I always forget when Sam isn't around. When my parents asked they could help financially in any way, she had them buy me this watch. She programmed it to go off when I need to take my pills."

Emily's brows furrowed, worry for someone else coming to her face for once. She silently moved out of the way, only watching as he swallowed down the pills helping him to regain and maintain his balance. 

"Hey Josh! I'm home! Did your watch go off or do I need to adjust it again?"

A fond smile came to his face. "It's good Sam. I just took them."

Emily looked vaguely uncomfortable, but it only got worse when Sam finally caught sight of her. Her only saving grace was that she was a much faster speaker. 

"Look, I know I'm the last person you want to see, but hear me out, okay?"

Sam paused for a moment, apprehensive, but nodded. 

Emily took a long breath, steadying herself. "Okay. I'm sorry. You were right - I'm an insensitive bitch. I can't blame Josh for the Wendigo or anything that happened because of them. I wasn't a part of his prank and it's not like I'm exactly kind-hearted myself. I'm part of the reason Hannah died and Josh snapped. I'm just as - if not more - guilt than you." She had turned to looked at Josh, taking another breath. "I would have brought something with me if it didn't feel like a cheap gesture. So, I'm sorry. For Hannah, Beth and what I said. You're still a dick for doing it, but I should know - valedictorian and all - that the you standing in front of me was not the one that did it."

He felt his chest tighten. Sam and Mike (maybe even Chris) understood what happened - both of them had sat through therapy sessions with him or waited outside of them for him. Though Mike had been on enough painkillers to knock out a horse, he recalled most of the things he could understand about his condition, distanced Josh from the psycho, and been explicitly clear one evening that there was nothing to forgive between them. Sam hadn't needed words. Only a sweet smile and a gentle hug came from her, but that was more than enough. Their collective ongoing care for him spoke on their behalf than any words ever could. But even with their support, it still felt like everyone else looked at him funny, like they were afraid of some fit appearing again any time they were all together. 

He couldn't bring out words, biting his lip instead to halt the tears. He looked down and nodded. Emily wavered for a moment before carefully and loosely wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He hugged her back, trembling in her tightening hold. 

"Thank you, Em." Sam voiced Josh's thoughts, reading them as she always had. "Wanna stay for dinner and Netflix? We were gonna watch the Avengers."

She grimaced then sighed. "Fuck it, let's do this."

* * *

Emily left the country a month later to move to California. She broke up with Matt quietly - a strange occurrence, considering her flare for drama - packed up and left. 

That weekend, a package came. All that was inside was a note and a necklace with a small, violet heart locket. 

_I'm a bitch, but I'm not heartless. I had this made after the one Hannah always wore. Keep it, hide it, burn it - do what you have to do. I hope I see you again, but if not, have a good life, Josh._

_\- Emily_

* * *

Sam had an uncanny ability to avoid catastrophes. He, however, was very good at getting centre stage for the fallout. Hence his situation now. 

Mike had weakly knocked on the door, his whole body betraying how downright miserable he was. Wordlessly, he'd let the man in, sitting quietly beside him when he collapsed onto the couch. Mike just lent forwards, pressing his head into his hands, the clean white bandages stark against his remaining fingers. 

He still didn't quite know how to take Mike - the man had been there through all of his therapy, been there right alongside Sam to hold him together as nightmares, flashbacks and his illness ate through him. Mike and Sam had taken shifts in the hospital sleeping with him - Mike had held him once all night as he sobbed an incoherent confession and guilty fear into his shirt, gently pressing loving kisses into his hair and petting down his back, ignoring his injured hand. Even still, it was different when he wasn't breaking down, when he wasn't reaching for any comfort he could find and the hurt was in someone else. 

HIs movements were jerky and slow, but he eventually rested his hand on Mike's shoulder. Mike let his hands fall away from his face, slumping to the right until his head was resting on one of his thighs. 

"I'm sorry. Out of everything that's happened, this is what I decide to cry about." Mike whispered, eyes focused somewhere that was not in the room. "You can just push me off."

Still shaky and jerky, his hand crept into Mike's hair, slow and wary brushes turning into rhythmic, gentle caresses. "Do-" He cleared his throat, mustering courage. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Mike took a deep breath, eyes closing as more tears spilled over his cheeks. "Jess left me."

He was . . . stunned. He hadn't expected something like this to happen. Jess hadn't looked unhappy and they were all shaken in their own ways, haunted by what and who they'd seen. 

Still cautious that he was overstepping some boundary, he leant down and brushed his lips over Mike's temple. Mike gave a shaky exhale and smile in response. "You can tell me."

"She's moving to Ontario - got a scholarship at the University of Toronto and she isn't coming back. She said this place is too familiar, too eerie. She . . . She meant something to me, man. I thought . . . maybe after all that . . . she would be someone I could stay with, be with, that she could understand. I don't know where I'm supposed to go from here . . . There's not that many of us. Emily already moved away, Ashley and Chris  _finally_ got together and you and Sam . . . "

"M-Me and Sam?" Where the hell was this coming from?

Mike's eye opened just enough to cast him a look that said  _C'mon, like you don't know_. "Yeah. I'm not gonna get between you guys. I'm not an asshole."

"There's nothing between me and Sam, Mike."

Mike huffed a laugh, nuzzling into his thigh like it was a pillow. "Uh-huh. Not like you guys live together or anything."

"Hey Josh, I'm back-" Sam rounded the corner, stopping dead in her tracks. "Mike?"

Normally, Mike would have gotten up, brushed it off with a joke and smile and shown himself out. He just sighed and adjusted himself into a more comfortable laying position. "Geez, Sam. Can't a guy get another guy to comfortingly stroke his hair? By the way, have you tried this? It feels really good."

"Ah, Mike the Man-Cat emerges." She teased, disappearing into the kitchen. 

"Hey!" Mike objected. "I am a fearsome wolf-cub!"

"Can we keep him?" He added without thinking. 

Sam peered around the corner, an eyebrow raised.  _What did you really mean by that?_ "You know you'd have to take care of him - brush him, play with him, clean up after him."

Josh blushed and looked down, watching the play of his fingers in thick chestnut locks.  _I don't know what I mean, all I know is that I meant it._  

With a shake of her head and a stronger smile, Sam disappeared back into the kitchen.

With a wistful sigh, Mike smiled. "You better hold onto that one. She really cares about you."

"You did that too."

Mike cast him another look, but this one was inquisitive. 

"You took care of me just like she is now. I just live with her, so it's more obvious. But . . . you're the exact same way."

"Josh is right, Mike." Sam called from the kitchen, the dull sound of a knife striking a cutting board echoing from the tiled space. 

Mike's gaze flickered between the kitchen door and him. "If I get dinner, whatever you mean by that is right."

"I'm always right." Sam replied with a nearly audible eye-roll. "And of course you get dinner."

* * *

Matt moved to British Columbia for a football scholarship the next month. Chris and Ashley's parents joined forces and sprang for the two of them to get an apartment in Edmonton, close to the university where Ashley was going to learn psychology and, eventually, psychiatry. 

Sam and Mike were very resistant to the idea, insisting that he was no burden at all, but eventually the Washingtons found a condo large enough for three and forcibly told them that they would pay the rent and utilities as thanks for taking such selfless care of their son.

"It feels wrong." Sam said. "It feels like I'm being bribed to continue doing what I was already gonna do, or like this is backpay for what I've already done."

"I know." Mike agreed. 

"If you really don't want it, we don't have to go."

Mike wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Nah. This place is too small for the three of us."

Sam looked around her small, stuffed apartment and let out a chuckle. "It's not my fault you two are so fucking tall!"

He winked up at Mike. "Is there someone else in the room? I don't see anyone."

Mike grinned and winked back. "I don't either, man. I mean, being 6' 2" and all, whoever's talking would have to be a midget."

"Yeah, like only 5' or something." 

"Oh, I see how it is." Sam snarked. 

* * *

Once they moved into the condo, Sam got to work - the walls changed from beige to smatterings of bright and soothing colours. In their bedroom, it was a cool sea green accented in a smooth, pale blue. Pictures were scattered everywhere, just like blankets and pillows. The high ceilings were a change from Sam's old place, but instead of cozy warmth it gave a sense of weightless freedom - flight in a room made of earthen-toned furniture and glass-cased sky instead of a ceiling. 

"You sure know how to make a room into art." Mike commented, hands on his hips and face awed."

She smiled, as right as the sun above. "I just know how I'm most comfortable. And since you two seemed to like me so much . . ." She winked and fell back onto a beanbag chair, stretching like a contented cat across it, arms touching the floor as she arched. 

"God-damn." Mike bit his lip.

He laughed, easier than he had all those months ago. "She's a thing of beauty."

"You're damn right."

She smiled, lazy and relaxed. "Come join me, then."

* * *

Nightmares still cropped up. It wasn't always nice or easy. Therapy was still ongoing and sometimes new pills made him worse. 

Wirey limbs snaked across his torso under the covers, tracing bare skin against bare skin, pale and tan a strong contrast in the cream sheets. The hand is rough, skin made dexterous by years of climbing rocks and climbing cord. The strength in those limbs are enough to climb a ninety degree cliff, to carry a person to safety and run for days. the abs pressed against him spoke of days doing nothing but dumping buckets of water onto brush fires, hanging out of helicopters and herding endangered people. 

Sam was good at many things, but nothing suited her quite light pararescue. 

Strong, tender arms curled low around his torso, a whiskered face nuzzling into his shoulder blade. No suntan could compare to natural darkness, but the arms cradling him sure tried. Muscle, firm and full, held on with the gentleness of a foal, heartbreakingly careful, beautifully tender and achingly sweet. They never stirred anything within, no heat or ember spurred into uncontrollable flame, but ignited warmth and belonging instead, a steady, guiding hand that kept all things grounded. 

Mike had changed a lot, but his talent with animals changed him the most - especially the horses he raised. 

Neither particularly strong or dexterous, the dark arms that reached back for both of them came with the same amount of love they poured into him. Long, slow and pleasurable slide of fingers across the back of one, careful, rhythmic and affectionate strokes against the shoulders of the other. Fingers that weaved scathing or enviable words tangled in thick hair. Lips that pursed in thought or phrase stretched into a loose, fulfilled smile. 

It had always been the dream, having grown up around the director, but now being the reviewer was a reality. 

Sometimes the other two would wake, kicking and screaming. Haunting memories and terrible images would resonate onto their faces. Sometimes they attended therapy too, just to have a place to talk out the shakes to a new audience. 

Sam would have sex with both of them, sometimes at once, sometimes with one watching or absent. She would hold them both, whisper to them both in the heat of the moment how much she loved them, cherished them, savoured every moment with them, stored each stolen kiss deep in her memory so she never forgot. 

Mike see him sexually and that was fine - it was a mutual kind of understanding. They kissed and hugged, sometimes simply and chastely, sometimes roughly and desperately rocking into each other. If Sam was asleep - passed out most likely - they would hold each other, kissing and passing whispered confessions between them. Mike loved him, just like Sam, but there would never quite be sexual lust lust for him. That was okay - he never felt that kind of attraction for Mike either.

It had been a long time since he felt like this - satisfied in the arms of the man and woman who loved him the most. But, for the first time in the four years since Blackwood Pines, with the mid-morning sun sweeping pleasantly and warmly across him from their bedroom window, he was Josh again.

 

 

 

 


End file.
